Chapter Two Dreams
Bruce came. Late. Stray watched him lean on the door. Leer. Get in her space.
He watched Cara, covered in orange pumpkin puree and wearing a dough-covered, butter-smeared apron, shrink—and then rise like a phoenix when Bruce the Beardy entered the living room of Cara’s little townhouse.
“You ran off the other night,” he chuckled. “Did you get jealous, sweetheart?”
In the kitchen, Stray felt himself losing control. Shadowy wings and the grotesque coils of a hungry incubus started to unravel in his mortal skin. “Mocking her,” he hissed.
Cara shrugged and sauntered to the corner where she’d tossed his sneakers and bag.
Yes, baby, show him those long, gorgeous legs he’s missing, Stray silently cheered.
“I saw you flirting with other girls. A man that I date should only want my attention. Should only have eyes for me.”
Bruce had the gall to laugh, a loud, braying fart of a laugh. “What? Who the fuck told you that? Like men don’t notice women with big tits? Of course we do! It’s biology. We might love our little pancake-assed wives, but we’re always going to appreciate the pretty ones.”
“The pretty ones? Ah.” Stray stepped out of the shadows, barely containing his other form.
He slid his arms possessively around Cara’s waist and let brimstone and rage fill his eyes as they bored into Bruce’s.
“The pretty ones. Not the glorious beauties. Not the sophisticated, elegant queens who own the night, and move like cats, and have laughs like music. No, God forbid we choose all that when we could look at a pair of plump breasts for five minutes.”
“Bruce? This is Stray. The kind of man who appreciates the whole package more than a few little parts.” Cara preened against him, head rubbing his jaw.
“Not so little,” Bruce grumbled, grabbing his stuff.
Stray had no idea what was flowing through him, but it was hot and dark, and it roared like a sudden hurricane wind, pushing Bruce and his baggage straight out the door and off the little porch, landing him on his ass on the hood of his car in the driveway.
Cara gasped as the wind slammed the door shut. “Wh-what was...?”
“Freak wind, huh?” Stray said carelessly. “That pie is so good, Cara. Do we have any whipped cream?”
He hovered in the mortal realm, sleeping rough in Pine Ridge, a creature of the shadows and woods.
Tonight, he hovered in Cara’s room. A shadow whom she’d already kissed goodnight.
A dark figure who had already drunk two glasses of wine, eaten half a pie, and listened to hours of music, remembering old songs, finding new ones, and dancing in Cara’s living room, her bare feet stepping on his booted ones.
Her happiness surrounded him like a drugged fog, and he couldn’t wait any longer.
A little sip while she slept.
A soft burrow into her sleeping mind, to give her the best orgasmic, erotic dreams she’d ever experienced—and just to take a nip of her soul.
Although he had to admit, Liam had been right. The mere fumes from the love in this place were enough to keep him alive. And when he was around Cara, with Cara... Something more palatable, thicker, and more solid was growing.
Love. I think she could be falling for me.
That usually meant he could take an entire soul.
But he wouldn’t.
Because...
He wouldn’t think about that right now.
Right now, Stray was sinking through layers of walls that sleeping minds and souls concocted without their humans even knowing it. Incubi had ways of getting in.
But once he was in... There was Cara, sitting on some expensive leather couch that was as soft as pudding, curled up in cozy socks and wrapped in blankets, holding a book.
A picture beside her, propped on the mantle over the fireplace.
His picture.
Their pictures. Them in wedding attire under a maple turning red and gold. A fall wedding.
It would be easy to take her like this. Walk in. “Hi, Honey. I’m home. I’m your husband. I want a little honeymoon action.”
Instead, he found himself scooting onto the couch, taking her hand, and laying his head in her lap as she easily made her legs his pillow. “Will you read to me, love?” he whispered.
Her hand stroked through his hair. Rubbed his brow, and her pretty voice read to him.
A dish of raspberries appeared on his chest, and he took one for himself, tasting something real, a bright fruity burst of tart and sweet on his tongue. He lifted one to her lips, and she kissed his fingers as she took a berry from him.
Trust. Fullness. Peace.
“You look sad,” she whispered.
“I don’t want us to wake up,” he admitted, voice suddenly thick.
“Why? We’ll have more days like this.” She laughed and closed the book. “Want me to cheer you up, baby?”
He almost shot out of her sleeping form in shock. No one had ever offered themselves to him before.
“No. No, I just want to hear the book,” he decided quickly, his hunger pangs vanishing. “Just want to sit here with you, Cara mine, and hear your voice,” he whispered.
“All right. Don’t be sad, though, Strathvyn. I love you. And no one is going to take me away from you.” She tapped her wedding ring to his and smiled. “Isn’t that what we promised last November?”
“It is,” he choked out and clutched the place where his heart was supposed to be. He’d thought it was all ashes, and now it was burning bright again. “Would you love me, no matter what?”
“No matter what,” she said easily, kissing his forehead, then his lips.
He drifted to sleep in her lap, his dream wrapped in hers.
“I had the best dream last night,” Stray told her at the coffee shop and watched her cheeks turn dark again.
“Me, too. You were in it,” she confessed. “But it wasn’t a naughty dream.”
“Mine wasn’t either,” he told the truth. “In my dream, I took you to the mall, and we looked at all of the obnoxious Christmas decorations up far too early.”
“It’s November. It’s not too early! This is the best time, when it’s fall and winter’s coming, and ... Well, it is if you have someone to share it with. I guess if you don’t, it’s just another day, another month.”
How well he knew that. Damn Liam, damn Pine Ridge, and damn the way she looked so excited. It made him long to capture that dancing sparkle in her eyes.
No. No, bless it, and bless him, and let me be something good enough to keep her. To fall in love, even by accident, and never be empty again.
“Come with me, then? To the mall?”
“Sure. And... You. Mr. No-Time-For-Fun. What do you want for Christmas?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you!” Cara laughed. “Do you celebrate it?”
His tongue took too long to unstick from shock. When he could move his mouth, he tried to hide the sheer disbelief of someone, anyone wanting to give him something out of friendship—or more. “I celebrate it. Don’t know that I need anything.”
“Well, I never see your car, or your apartment... If you invite me over, maybe I could see what needs a woman’s touch,” she said lightly.
She wants to be near me.
I don’t have apartments or cars. But I guess I could get them. “I just let my lease go. I’m moving to Pine Ridge.”
“You are?” Cara’s sparkling eyes and the childish joy in her voice made him weak in the knees.
“I’d like a place with a big, comfy leather sofa. The kind of dark brown leather that’s so old and soft that it feels like pudding.” He heard her little gasp of recognition, but he kept talking. “And some thick, cozy blankets, and a fireplace. A bookcase full of books. A mantlepiece with pictures—”
“In silver frames.”
He met her gaze. “Pictures of you.”
“And you.” Cara’s voice was barely a whisper.
“And us. In something pretty. Under a maple.”
“In the fall.”
“An October wedding.”
There was silence.
He’d fucked up. He really had, and Cara’s horrified expression confirmed it. “I’m sorry!” he blurted, strange words on a normally unapologetic tongue.
“Why would you— Don’t say things like that to me.”
The overwhelming, rotting stench of sadness hit his guts and made him wince. “Someday! Please, Cara, I wasn’t trying to rush you.”
“You... You weren’t trying to rush me? You mean, you thought about that? For real? You, me, wedding?”
Had he? In his dreams, which were her dreams. A shared dream that extended beyond waking. “I’m sure that’s what I want, when you trust me. If you ever trust me. And love me. And know I’d never hurt you,” Stray whispered.
“Oh. Oh, Stray.” Cara took his hand at the little table in the back of the coffee shop.
“I wouldn’t rush you,” he repeated, and realized it was true.
He also realized, with a shock, that he was fuller than he could ever remember, and he still hadn’t let himself have even a sip of her.
“Your soul touches mine. You are in every empty spot I thought couldn’t be filled.
I know it’s fast—but I know it’s never been like this, Cara.
Let me... Let me put it this way. If I were a starving man, and the world was full of feasts and banquets put right at my door, and they told me I could have everything...
Or I could have you?” He held her hands in his, squeezing tight as he kept her gaze.
“You would be the only thing on the menu, love.”
This time, it was her turn to bolt forward and kiss him cross-eyed, knocking his egg salad sandwich into his lap.
The blonde waitress and the barista, wearing a baby in a sling on her back, both applauded the scene they were making.
“Oh, no,” Cara whispered when she pulled back.
“Oh, yes,” Stray declared, shoved the sandwich off, and pulled her into his lap instead, claiming her mouth again.
“People are staring, Stray,” Cara whimpered against his invading tongue and his kneading hands on her neck.
“Let them look,” he hissed.
“What about the mall?” she said plaintively.
He sighed. “Oh, yes. The mall. Do you still want to go?”
“Mmhm!”
“Right now?”
“Yep.”
“Then, we’ll go.”
She let out a little squeak of delight and kissed him again. “We can do more of that later.” Cara winked.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how much later. How soon would he get a taste of her?
But I don’t have to ask her. This one is mine.